23 posts tagged “vox hunt”
Share a song you listened to in 6th grade.
I think greenhow had the record (or was that the year that we actually started buying tapes, BK?)
Show us a t-shirt.
Submitted by Connie.
Lil'ReRe got this t-shirt from his Auntie Torie (un-tee tyo-wee) and we're part of that legion of parents taking their kids into formerly adult-only environments. We're even taking over the wine bars! And hey, if you don't like it, then stop telling us how cute our son and his t-shirt are.
Show us something you're allegic to.
So funny that this question has shown up on the 15th anniversary of my allergy discovery. It was Easter morning, 1993, that I realized I was allergic to chocolate. I had suffered from chronic migraines for a couple of years, and had had brain scans and allergy tests, but chocolate wasn't one of them. I went on an exchange to Thailand in 1992, and separated from the North American diet, my headaches mysteriously disappeared. I returned to Canada just before Easter, and when I bit into an Easter bunny, my migraine rushed back with a vengance. So even though it was disappointing to know this was the cause of my pain, it was great to finally isolate the cause. I have found other migrain triggers over the years, but nothing as ubiquitous as chocolate. But I like to think of it as just leaving that much more chocolate for everyone else.
Happy Easter everyone!
Show us the most productive thing you'll accomplish today.
I gave them both birch bark comb-overs. In the meantime, a couple of our guests for the weekend were a little more ambitious:
We tried to hitch up the sled, but didn't get very far:
So ReRe had to rely on people-power for his sled rides, but seemed to still enjoy himself:
Audio: Share a song with powerful lyrics.
I've always been fascinated by the following lyrics from "Edge of Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks:
The clouds never expect it when it rains
But the sea changes colour
But the sea does not change
Was Stevie Nicks a zen master? What does this mean?
Show us your favorite album cover.
Rather than posting a pic of my favourite album cover, I'll post a link to it, since it involves nudity, and I don't want to offend anyone, particularly family members. It is the cover for The Beauty of Wynona, Daniel Lanois' 1993 album. It is a photo by Czech photographer, Jan Saudek, who is known for his hand-tinted, semi-erotic photographs. (Another one of his photos appeared on the cover of Soul Asylum's Grave Dancers Union).The reason this is my favourite cover is because of its ambiguity of gender, emotion, and intention. I love the cold, steeliness of it, the pose that is obviously threatening, the mix of weakness and strength. I think this picture just generally makes me nervous and uncomfortable, and for that it is unforgettable.
Show us a photo that makes you cringe.
This photo could also have been posted under "Photo that makes you laugh" or "Photo that makes you remember". This was the final race I ever rowed competitively, and the second worst race I ever rowed. But more on that later. Summer 2003 was definitely the worst rowing season I ever had. I was rowing/coaching for the Ottawa Rowing Club for about 5 years, 2 on the lightweight team, and had had a very good season the previous year, where we had qualified for and rowed in the Head of the Charles in Boston, and the Head of the Fish in Saratoga Springs, which we won. However, there was something about turning thirty in 2003 that seemed to flip a switch with the coaches - I was presumed to have reached the pinnacle of my rowing career, I wasn't going to qualify for anything greater than where I was (like say, for instance, the provincial or national teams) and there were many younger rowers, some of whom I had coached myself, who could beat me any day in a time trial, and had a decade of rowing ahead of them. So the coaches put me in a boat with three other women for whom they had the same feelings, gave us substandard coaching, and ignored our every plea for intervention in what was a completely disfunctional season. This season culminated in this race at Henley, where the power in our boat was so uneven we couldn't even row straight down the coarse, no matter how hard I steered, and we ended up crossing the empty lane (where boats row back up the course) and were heading straight for the judges' stands. Being in bow, it was up to me to get us across the finish line somewhere near the middle of our lane, and we finished outside the course, with the crowd (and officials) screaming at us. As we crossed what was basically the finish line, I jammed my oar into the water and steered us away from continuing our headlong run into the shore. Two words came to mind: Clown Show. If I could have gotten out of the boat and walked away, I would have.
But from the shared adversity of this experience grew a great bond with my friend Sarah, who is in stroke seat in the pic above. We were able to commiserate with each other, and have been able to form a friendship, like cult survivors, that has grown far beyond rowing. She has gone on to do some really amazing work in Uganda on urban agriculture, and has taken up knitting with a skill and fearlessness that I swear is unprecedented. I like to think that somewhere along the way we would have met anyway, but I was sure glad to have her there for what was, without question, one of the most difficult experiences of my life.
So back to the worst race of my life: I was rowing on the varsity crew for Carleton University, at the Head of the Trent. (BTW, head races are 4-6km races on rivers with staggered starts, so that there is space for all boats, but often boats will pass each other, which is part of the added difficulty). Anyone who has rowed on the Trent River knows how narrow and windy it is, and the great danger of collisions with other boats. We had won right of way over the Queens crew at the narrowest point at the locks, but coming out of them, and heading for the bridge by the Library (and the finish line) they started to gain on us. Our rather inexperienced coxswain decided that the best idea, with Queens coming up on the inside of the curve, was to try and cut them off. As she increased the angle we took around the corner, and with Queens right on our port side, we locked oars. As if pulled by gravity, our boats moved towards each other, and their starboard oars passed between the girls on my crew.
But they didn't stop rowing.
With the full force of a rower in the zone, their bow seat took a stroke, but caught no water. Instead, she caught me full in the back, and knocked the air right out of my lungs. I felt this searing pain in my chest, as if I were drowning, and my lungs fought to draw back in enough air before I passed out. The next few moments are a blur, but somehow we got extricated; however, rather than acknowledging our error and giving way to Queens, our coxswain yelled at us to row. I dug into the water with my oar, but being in bow, this only turned the boat even further towards port. By then the rest of the crew had their oars in the water, and we headed towards the finish line at about a 45 degree angle to it. The view from the bridge must had been epic, as we left Queens in the water, sprinted across the finish line, and headed straight into the retaining wall, taking three feet off our bow. I remember as we cross the finish line, becoming aware of the imminent crash, and jamming in my blade, hoping to veer us away from the wall, and turning to look over my shoulder at the bow, as it crumpled like a paper airplane. That was the worst race ever.
A few years later, I was having post-morning practice brunch with Sarah at the Mayflower on Elgin, and she was making fun of Carleton, and extolling the superiority of the Queens crew, with whom she had rowed. I was not necessarily arguing with her on that point. It wasn't until she said "And stupid Carleton, cutting us off at the bridge, they should have just given way. And then they crashed their boat. Serves them right!" that I paused, fork mid-way to my mouth, and asked her what seat she was in during that race.
"Bow seat," she said.
"So was I," I answered.
We looked at each other for a moment, as the revelation took hold, as if deciding whether we should take this outside. But it was too late, we had become too good of friends to let that experience get in the way. And we had more important things to deal with. Like brunch.
Show us something you believe in.
I believe in fair trade. After all the overseas projects I've worked on, I am a firm believer that what people really need, in addition to democracy and justice, is a fair day's pay for a fair day's work. A steady income affords people freedom and access that aid will never provide, and I say this after witnessing many an overseas aid project. As much as is possible, I try to buy fairly traded goods, particularly those in commodity sectors that are ripe for exploitation - coffee, tea, sugar, etc. Being allergic to chocolate, I'm not a big consumer, but if I could eat it, then I'd try to get it from a fairly traded source. I also have, on order, some wool from Malabrigo Yarn, that I've bought through a co-op, who is dealing directly with the women's cooperative in Uruguay. And as a going-away present, I was given a fairly-traded soccer ball by my former colleagues (they knew me so well!). Fairly traded goods do cost more, but I think that the price reflects the true price of the good and the labour to produce it.
All that being said, I think fairly traded goods make up about 1% of what I consume. However, given that Transfair Canada, the group that certifies products as fairly traded in Canada, can certify coffee, cocoa, sugar, spices, wine, bananas, cotton, flowers, rice, quinoa and sports balls, I'm not doing so bad. Maybe I should work on making Mississauga a Fair Trade Town?
Show us what makes you tick.
Citizen action gets me fired up. Probably the most exciting thing to happen lately for me (other than Hallowe'en, of course) was the electoral reform referendum. Right now I'm (trying to get around to) reading this book, The Art of the Possible, a handbook on political activism, but I'm finding it hard because I get so fired up, and have no one to talk to about it, that it is actually becoming intensely frustrating. I'm thinking of getting in touch with the author (who is, incidentally, a friend of a friend, and lives in Toronto) because I'm quite sure she'd be game.
Show us your secret ingredient.
Well, the recipe isn't mine, but here is a gravy recipe I found on Epicurious made with caramelized onions and balsamic vinegar. This is the only thing I've ever made that people have drooled over. Up here in Canada, Thanksgiving is this weekend, so I'll be whipping some of this up very soon.
And I know, what's with the caramelized onions again? I really have no idea how I'll fit them into my post tomorrow....
